


don't fill up on chips

by andtimestoodstill



Series: i swear to god the devil made me do it [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 7k self indulgent words, Adam Parrish is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gratuitous use of italics, M/M, adam had a competency kink, adam is not good at cooking, ronan is good at cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andtimestoodstill/pseuds/andtimestoodstill
Summary: Ronan was standing at the counter, only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs (Adam was pretty sure they belonged to him), His tattoo on full display. Claws and beaks and vines and flowers drawn in stark lines across his pale skin. Adam was overcome with the overwhelming desire to touch.Adam padded up behind Ronan, letting his arms circle around his middle, resting his chin on Ronan’s bare shoulder. “Mornin’,” Adam mumbled. There was a purpling hickey at the juncture of Ronan’s neck and shoulder that Adam vaguely remembered leaving there last night. He found himself biting at the bruise.“Motherfucker,” Ronan swore, turning enough to get a glimpse of Adam out of the corner of his eye. “Good morning to you too, asshole.”(In which Ronan is a great cook and Adam has no chill about it)





	don't fill up on chips

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sDX-K6yZyQ)

In the eight months Adam Parrish and Ronan Lynch had been dating (or five months, depending on how oblivious you were), Adam had learned quite a few very surprising things about his boyfriend. They were, as follows:

  1. Ronan Lynch loved pumpkin spice lattes.
  2. He also loved peppermint hot chocolate, especially his mother’s peppermint hot chocolate.
  3. Ronan Lynch had an unspoken, but nevertheless obvious, capital-T, Thing for Adam’s hands.
  4. Ronan Lynch was also inexplicably—and if you asked Adam, _delightfully_—ticklish.

But above all else, the thing Adam found most surprising about Ronan was this:

  1. Ronan Lynch not only loved to cook, but he was infuriatingly good at it.

This was a fact hard-earned by Adam, Ronan kept his cooking skills very well hidden, insisting on eating out, or ordering food in on date nights. On any given day, Ronan could be found drinking orange juice straight out of the carton or eating peanut butter straight out of the jar. Over time, Adam was given small glimpses into the great depths of Ronan’s skills in the kitchen. A spaghetti dinner here, or a colorful Western omelet in the middle of the night while Adam was studying for his Thermo II final there.

Two weeks after Adam and Ronan had moved into their new apartment, approximately 52% of their belongings still packed away in boxes, Adam had woken up alone, a fact that he found endlessly annoying. After finding a pair of clean boxers (he was pretty sure they belonged to Ronan) amongst their shared laundry, Adam left their bedroom in search of his missing boyfriend.

Ronan was standing at the counter, only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs (Adam was pretty sure they belonged to him), His tattoo on full display. Claws and beaks and vines and flowers drawn in stark lines across his pale skin. Adam was overcome with the overwhelming desire to touch.

Adam padded up behind Ronan, letting his arms circle around his middle, resting his chin on Ronan’s bare shoulder. “Mornin’,” Adam mumbled. There was a purpling hickey at the juncture of Ronan’s neck and shoulder that Adam vaguely remembered leaving there last night. He found himself biting at the bruise.

“Mother_fucker_,” Ronan swore, turning enough to get a glimpse of Adam out of the corner of his eye. “Good morning to you too, asshole.”

Adam pressed a kiss to the hickey and finally got a good look at their kitchen. “What are you making?”

There was a large mixing bowl on the counter in front of Ronan, with some sort of colorless batter inside. “Pancakes,” Ronan gave the batter a cursory stir.

“When did you buy pancake mix?” Adam yawned, still speaking mostly into Ronan’s warm skin.

Ronan scoffed, like the idea of pancake mix personally offended him. “I made these from scratch, asshole.” He moved to spoon the batter into a greased pan, Adam’s arms still wrapped around his middle.

There was something quite practiced in Ronan’s movements. Formulaic, even. Ronan spooned batter and flipped pancakes like a seasoned pro. There was a growing pile of perfectly round and evenly browned pancakes on the counter next to the stove. More than Adam and Ronan could possibly eat.

“Did you invite people over? Because I think we’re a little underdressed.” Adam had, reluctantly, removed himself from Ronan’s personal space to make coffee. He sipped at the steaming cup and watched Ronan add two more pancakes to the plate.

“Trust me, Parrish. We’ll finish these without a problem.” Ronan smirked over at Adam’s slumped figure.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m not a betting man, but in twenty minutes, when we’ve destroyed these fuckers, you’ll be begging me for more.” Ronan’s eyebrow waggling insinuated that Adam would be asking for _more_ than just pancakes. “I’d put my money on it.

Adam opened his mouth to respond (_good thing you have cash to spare, Lynch_), the sound dying in his throat as Ronan tossed the last pancake in the air with a casual flick of his wrist. Any sense of annoyance left in Adam was replaced immediately with the desire to kiss the stupid smug smile off of his stupid boyfriend’s stupid beautiful face.

Ronan’s chuckle was swallowed by the press of Adam’s lips to his, but the sound infuriated Adam regardless. Adam dug his fingers into Ronan’s ticklish sides in retaliation, his boyfriend flinching away, swearing acerbically. “Parrish, you _asshole_.”

Adam pressed a kiss to the corner of Ronan’s mouth, taking the platter of pancakes in hand. “Love you, too. Let’s eat.”

(The pancakes were good, _annoyingly_ good, Adam hated to admit. He refused to _ask_ Ronan to make more, but after a few minutes of persuasive kissing, his boyfriend returned to the kitchen)

***

Adam assumed that the reason Ronan’s skills in the kitchen were hidden from him was less Ronan’s instinctual desire to hide parts of himself away, and more a lack of time and energy. Now that Ronan was out of school and technically unemployed, he spent more and more time in their kitchen.

More often than not, Adam came home from work just as Ronan was finishing up dinner. Pans of steaming lasagna, or a tower of buttery grilled cheese sandwiches and scratch tomato soup, or, tonight, a rack of slow cooked ribs and all the traditional sides.

“What the hell, Ronan?” Adam asked, shoes toed off at the door, messenger bag ditched in the living room.

“Thank you, Ronan,” Ronan said in a cheap imitation of Adam’s accent. “For making a delicious homecooked meal while I was slaving away at the office all day. Let me show you my appreciation with a blowjob before dinner.”

Adam huffed out a laugh. “Are you expecting me to drop to my knees in the middle of our kitchen?”

“I mean, I’m willing to make the trek all the way to our bedroom, but sure.” Ronan leaned back against the counter; muscled arms braced behind his head obscenely.

Adam rolled his eyes, “yeah, I’m not doing that. The linoleum would be hell on my knees.”

Ronan barked out a laugh. “Fine,” he turned back to the stove. “You wanna eat now? Or are you gonna shower first?”

Adam was starving, so they piled up their plates and made their way to the living room to eat. “We need to get a real table,” Ronan said around a bite of collard greens. “My mom is gonna kill me when she finds out we ate barbeque on the fucking floor.”

Adam hummed in agreement, more focused on shoving food into his mouth. Had Adam been with anyone other than his besotted (_fuck you, Parrish, I’m not Mr. Darcy_) boyfriend, he would have tried to exercise some more restraint. But it was just him and Ronan, and maybe he still had some lingering food insecurities.

Also, the food was really fucking good.

“Slow down, Parrish. This isn’t a hot dog eating contest at Coney Island.”

Adam swallowed and took a long sip of water. “It’s just so good.” Ronan colored at the compliment, ears going red. “When did you learn to cook?”

“I helped my mom in the kitchen growing up.” Ronan shrugged. “I guess I just picked up on a lot over the years.” Ronan paused. “What, Parrish?”

Adam knew he was just staring at his boyfriend with a heavy gaze. He pushed away his plate and clambered over to Ronan, pushing at his chest to lie flat on the floor. “Adam?” Ronan asked. He didn’t get out another coherent word for the next few minutes.

Thank god their living room was carpeted.

***

After a few weeks (months, really. It was embarrassing), Adam was able to restrain himself in the face of Ronan’s cooking expertise. It was around the same time that Ronan began to recycle old recipes, they were still delicious, but much less disconcerting. Ronan’s cooking was becoming predictable, in the very best way. It was dependable. It became something that Adam could rely on to be true.

Of course, as soon as Adam thought this, Ronan had to surprise him with his hidden depths yet again. It was a gray Saturday in late September, and Adam had to go into the office.

“Why?” Ronan whined into the skin of Adam’s neck.

“I’m behind on a deadline,” Adam trailed a hand up Ronan’s tattoo, fingers splayed against a particularly complicated knot of vines and flowers that Adam loved to trace. He had to settle for picturing it given Ronan’s insistence of keeping Adam pinned down onto the bed. “I’m only going in for a half-day.” He hummed as Ronan bit at Adam’s right earlobe. “I’ll be back by lunch.”

Ronan, after some gentle prodding, rolled off of Adam and allowed him to get ready for work. “What do you want for lunch?” Ronan asked.

(Ronan had gotten into the habit of making Adam lunch every day, leaving notes tucked in the pockets of his lunch box. Adam did not mention the notes for fear that they would disappear altogether, leaving them tacked up around his desk at the office instead)

“I’ve been craving Thai food.” Adam sat on the edge of their bed to put on his socks.

“That can be arranged.” Ronan was sprawled out on their bed, sheets doing almost nothing to cover up the miles of pale skin on display. It was fucking obscene.

Adam had to suck in a breath through his nose and remind himself that he needed to get out of the house in the next ten minutes in order to catch his train. After he had his primal urges under control, he leaned over to press a kiss to Ronan’s lips, ignoring the smug smile there. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Will you feed Chainsaw on your way out?”

Adam stood, tossing his jacket over one arm. “I distinctly remember saying that I was not going to take care of your lobster.”

Ronan huffed out a breath and sat up, sheets falling away from his hips. He stood unselfconsciously and stepped into a pair of underwear he found on the floor next to their bed. “You say that like you don’t love her.”

Adam rolled his eyes, turning on one heel and heading to the kitchen. “Yes, but you’re the one who bought us a lobster, so you’re going to be the one to take care of her,” he said as jabbed at the fancy coffee machine Ronan insisted on buying during a late-night trip to Target. Adam still had trouble operating the stupid thing, but it started to whir and hum after a few moments, and Adam assumed that coffee would come out sooner or later.

“I was hopped up on cough medicine,” Ronan said to Adam. “Hey, you little shit, eat your damn food,” Ronan said to Chainsaw.

Coffee began to pour into a travel mug, Adam taking a long pull from the cup when the machine was done. Ronan was still fighting with Chainsaw, Adam coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Ronan’s bare middle, dropping a kiss to the back of Ronan’s neck. “I love you, see you later.”

“Get out of here, Parrish. Go make the world a better place or whatever the fuck.”

Adam’s laugh bubbled out of him as he shoved his feet into his shoes and threw his messenger bag over his shoulder. Once he was at his office, he was able to work without distraction, getting ahead of his deadline by the time his alarm chimed. He texted Ronan when he was walking to the subway station to let him know he was on the way home.

Walking through the door of their apartment, Adam was overwhelmed by the scent of Thai food. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, he saw Ronan standing at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like curry.

“Hey, Parrish,” Ronan glanced over his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips.

“What is this?”

“Panang curry,” he pointed at the stove, “sticky rice,” he pointed at the rice cooker, “beer,” he pointed at the fridge.

“When I said I wanted Thai food, I thought you would just order take out.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Why would I do that when I could just make it? It seemed easy enough.”

Adam closed the distance between them, taking Ronan’s face in his hands to kiss him square on the mouth. “You are incredible, you know that?” Ronan tried to shy away, blush rising to his cheeks. Adam’s hold kept firm. “I mean that. You never stop surprising me.” He kissed Ronan again, his boyfriend wrapping an arm around Adam’s middle.

“Yeah, whatever Parrish. I’m just trying to keep up with you.” Ronan nosed at Adam’s cheek, kissing down across his jaw.

Adam melted, letting Ronan do most of the work to keep him standing. “Will this keep?” Adam asked, his voice embarrassing himself. He scratched at Ronan’s scalp, cropped hair digging into the pads of his fingers.

“Mhm,” Ronan turned the heat down on the stove and walked Adam backwards into the living room.

Adam wasn’t even a little surprised that they couldn’t make it to their bed.

***

Adam loved Ronan; he loved the life they were building together. He loved every chapter in their story. Adam wouldn’t want to change anything, not even those three months he thought that they were dating. Looking back at it now, it was kind of funny.

(Adam was not thinking about telling this story at their wedding, or to their kids. He _wasn’t_)

It did however make it difficult to discern when they were supposed to celebrate their anniversary.

“Should we just split the difference?” Adam asked a few weeks prior. They were camped out on the couch as rain pounded against the windows.

“And what? Let our anniversary outshine my birthday?”

Adam rolled his eyes, tucking his socked feet under Ronan’s thigh. “You really care about your birthday that much?”

“My birthday has seniority.”

“Because you’ve been alive longer than we’ve been dating?”

“Duh.”

Adam couldn’t help but laugh, nudging at Ronan’s thigh with his toes. “Fine, we’ll celebrate in January.”

“No,” Ronan snaked a hand around Adam’s calf. “We’re celebrating in October.”

“_Ro_,” Ronan’s hand kneaded into his calf. “You didn’t even know we were dating then.”

“Yeah, but I _wanted_ us to be dating. And it’s not like I was seeing anyone else. For all intents and purposes, we were together.”

Adam sighed. “Fine, we’ll celebrate in October.”

Ronan’s smile was bright, “I’m going to spoil the shit out of you.”

Adam tried, in vain, to convince Ronan to have a low-key anniversary. They were getting ready for bed, Ronan sprawled out across the mattress as Adam laid out his clothes for the next day. “Look, you don’t need to go overboard with this anniversary thing.”

Ronan looked up from his phone. “What are you talking about, Parrish?”

“I just,” Adam paused. “I know how much you love me; you don’t have to go to some big fuss.”

Ronan didn’t respond at first, moving to plug in his phone and set it on his bedside table, dark eyebrows drawn together. His gaze finally settled on Adam, who was standing, frozen, at their dresser. “It’s not just for you, Parrish.”

“What?”

“I mean, yeah. I love you and I want to show you how much I love you, but it’s for me too. I’ve never been in a relationship like this before. I’ve never had something to celebrate.”

Adam sucked in a sharp breath, finding himself at Ronan’s side in an instant. He reached out and took Ronan’s square jaw in hand, thumb rubbing away the tension there. “Hey,” Ronan’s eyes didn’t meet Adam’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

Ronan scoffed. “Don’t apologize, Parrish. Jesus.”

“Fine, just.” Adam tucked his knees under him, shuffling closer to Ronan. He finally met Adam’s gaze, the sharp lines around Ronan’s mouth smoothing out instinctively. Adam felt himself smile. “This is new for me too.”

Ronan tipped his head towards Adam, their foreheads pressing together. “We don’t have to go all out just because I want to—”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just didn’t want you to think that I was expecting some big thing.” Adam slotted their noses together, their lips almost brushing. “I like showing you off,” he admitted. “I like walking around Manhattan holding your hand. I like the jealous looks in everyone’s eyes, wishing that they had you.”

“Parrish,” Ronan licked his lips and they were close enough that Adam could feel it. “You can’t just say shit like that.” Breaths were wracking through him, and Adam liked the way Ronan sounded _raw_.

Adam settled himself into his boyfriend’s lap, Ronan’s hands coming up to press at Adam’s hips. “I mean it. Take me out, let me show you off. They can have the whole island of Manhattan, but they don’t get to have you.”

Ronan had nothing to say to that, kissing Adam soundly instead.

Later, as the lights and the sounds of the city filtered in through their poorly insulated windows, Adam said, “you can talk about him, you know.”

Ronan was curled up on his side, Adam pressed against his back. “I know. I just don’t want to.”

“Like, you don’t want to because you’re repressing your emotions, or you don’t want to because you’re over it?”

“I don’t want to because it’s not important.”

Adam’s palm was pressed against Ronan’s bare chest, rising and falling as he breathed. Ronan’s hand twisted around his fingers, holding them tightly. “You don’t think that your relationship with him has had any effect on ours?”

“I’m sure it does, but you don’t seem to have any problem with any of my residual issues from dating a street-racing drug dealer from _New Jersey_.”

“That’s true,” Adam nosed at the space between Ronan’s shoulder blades. “It’s really inconvenient that I think your jaded asshole act is really hot.” His teeth dug into a particularly tense knot of muscle in Ronan’s back, his boyfriend hissing and swearing viciously. “Also, your filthy mouth.”

Adam could hear the smug smile in Ronan’s voice. “I think it would be easier to list the things you don’t find attractive about me, than the things you _do_.”

Adam scoffed and dug his fingers into Ronan’s ticklish sides, his boyfriend trying to twist away, but Adam held him close, leaning over just enough to whisper in Ronan’s ear, “you’re absolutely fucking right, baby.”

Ronan shivered, melting into a puddle of a man. Adam had been experimenting with pet names over the last few months, just to see what kind of reaction they would elicit from Ronan. Some were met with absolute revulsion (_honey_, _sweetie_, and _pumpkin_ just to name a few) and others went mostly unnoticed. There were two pet names that Adam had discovered had an instantaneous effect on his boyfriend. The first was _baby_.

The second could only be employed when Adam let his usually well-hidden accent leech through his words. “_Darlin’_,” Adam kissed at the shell of Ronan’s ear as his boyfriend sucked in a ragged breath.

“You’re an asshole,” Ronan turned in Adam’s arms, pressing a searing kiss against his lips.

“I love you too,” Adam kissed the corner of his mouth. “I need to go to sleep.”

Ronan gave a huff of disapproval before kissing the tip of Adam’s nose. “Go to bed.” He turned back to his other side, Adam’s arm tightening around Ronan’s waist. “Love you.”

***

Their anniversary was on a Sunday, Adam had mentally prepared for gifts and laying about the apartment until their dinner reservation. Maybe there would be some sleepy morning sex, or some not so sleepy shower sex. They had the day to waste as they pleased.

Adam was not expecting to wake up alone.

When he reached over to Ronan’s side of the bed Adam found that it was cold. Sitting up, Adam felt his face draw together in irritation. Just as Adam was about to concede, get out of bed, and find something to wear, Ronan shouldered his way through the door, a breakfast tray in hand.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“Yeah, I woke up _alone_.” Adam crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the tray suspiciously.

Ronan rolled his eyes, setting the tray of food at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry, should I not have made waffles?”

Adam paused, still staring his boyfriend down. Ronan met Adam’s challenging gaze, one dark eyebrow cocked, icy blue eyes sparkling. “You made waffles?”

“Sure did,” Ronan handed him a cup of coffee. “You hungry?” Adam took the mug hesitantly, lifting it to his lips. “Careful, it’s hot.” Adam lowered his hands, Ronan smiled at him warmly. “Waffle?”

Adam blew on his coffee, steam rising off the surface, as he nodded. Ronan moved to grab a plate from the tray and handed it to Adam. There was a fluffy golden-brown waffle piled high with strawberries sitting there. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised.”

“Hm?” Ronan was dressing his own waffle with butter and maple syrup.

“Every time you make something new,” Adam took the syrup from Ronan’s hands. “I can never believe it. Your depth of knowledge is astounding.” Adam took the first bite of his waffle. “Holy shit.”

“Good?” Ronan asked, cutting into his waffle and taking a bite.

“So good,” Adam shook his head, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “Seriously. I don’t get it. How are you so good at this?”

“You’ve had my mother’s cooking; I had a great teacher.” Ronan took a sip of his own coffee. “Cooking is all about knowing the basics and then trusting your instincts, it’s really not that hard.”

“Okay Elle Woods,” Adam teased, Ronan scoffed as Adam poked at Ronan’s leg with his foot under the duvet. “Don’t undersell yourself.”

After they were finished, Ronan piled the sticky plates back onto the tray before settling at Adam’s side. “Happy anniversary, Parrish,” he leaned over and slotted their lips together.

Ronan tasted like maple syrup and sugar and strawberries, and Adam pressed closer to lick into his mouth, chasing the taste. With a low laugh, Ronan pulled away, brushing a thumb against Adam’s lower lip. “Christ, Parrish. If you wanted another waffle, you should’ve just asked.”

Adam felt himself flush, but Ronan didn’t look anything but endeared, so the embarrassment lost most of its edge. “Will you make me another waffle?”

Ronan’s smile was an incandescent thing, blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “Of course,” he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Adam’s mouth before rolling out of bed.

“Ro?” Adam said as Ronan was halfway out the door. He turned; one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Adam had said those three words to Ronan hundreds, if not thousands of times, before. But there were still instances that hearing those words come from Adam’s mouth made Ronan flush from his muscled chest to the tips of his ears.

(This was one of those times)

Adam decided to put his poor boyfriend out of his misery. “Now go make me a waffle.” Ronan’s laugh followed him out of the room, and Adam settled back against his pillows.

***

Ronan didn’t always have dinner ready and waiting for when Adam returned from work. Adam made sure that his boyfriend knew that Adam didn’t expect Ronan to cook for him, but Ronan insisted that he liked taking care of him. Liked Adam’s unbridled gratitude and his reactions to even the simplest of dishes.

Adam had a very different relationship to food than Ronan, the dichotomy of never enough versus all you could need was quite present in their relationship. Ronan was cavalier with his cooking; it was something that could easily be given away. On the other hand, Adam had a lot of anxieties around food, and he was still trying to work through them.

It didn’t help that Adam also couldn’t cook for shit. He could get by (and he had for years) on dishes that required very little talent, Scrambled eggs, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and, Adam’s favorite, quesadillas.

(Quesadillas were cheap and easy, and they packed a decent amount of protein into a single serving. Quesadillas were the perfect meal)

So on a chilly Thursday in November, just a little over a week after Ronan’s 23rd birthday, Adam was alone in their apartment, watching a quesadilla spin leisurely on a plate in the microwave. He took his dinner out of the microwave as soon as it beeped, almost dropping the plate as it burned his hand.

“Christ on a cracker,” Adam said under his breath, grabbing a potholder to carry his plate from the kitchen to the living room.

Ronan was preparing for an upcoming art show in Bushwick, working at Monmouth. Gansey had graciously allowed Noah and Ronan to use Ronan’s old bedroom as a studio space, Adam kissing Ronan goodbye at the subway station every morning as they headed in different directions across the city. Adam was glad that Ronan was working towards something. Not that Ronan didn’t pull his own weight financially, he paid his half of the rent, utilities, and groceries, but it was obvious that he was _bored_.

If that meant that Adam had to cook dinner for himself a few times a week, it was worth it.

Adam settled on the couch, watching old episodes of _House Hunters_ as he ate his way through one and a half quesadillas. Ronan came home as a hilariously out-of-touch couple argued about the first house they were visiting.

“Hey,” he said from the door, locking it behind him.

“Hey,” Adam peered over the back of the couch, watching Ronan kick off his boots and toss away his leather jacket.

Ronan came around the couch, picking up Adam’s legs and sitting down. He rubbed at Adam’s socked food as he said, “did you eat?”

“Mhm,” Adam sat up, smiling at his boyfriend. “I made quesadillas.”

Ronan glanced at the coffee table. “Is that what that is?”

Adam scoffed. “Excuse me—”

“Did you make that in a microwave?” Ronan had picked up the plate, his nose wrinkling up in distaste.

“You know what,” Adam leaned forward, snatching the remaining half of a quesadilla from the plate. “Your opinion is not appreciated.”

Ronan laughed, squeezing Adam’s ankle. “You’re adorable.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Christ, Parrish.” Adam tried to stand, but Ronan’s grip on his legs kept him in place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just thought you had a better palette than that.”

“Well, you weren’t here, so I had to make do. And I’ll have you know; I like microwaved quesadillas.”

“I’m sure I could change your mind.” Ronan gingerly picked up Adam’s legs and stood.

“Where are you going?”  
  
Ronan had made his way to the kitchen, he opened the fridge and started piling ingredients on the counter. “I’m gonna make a quesadilla that’s gonna blow your mind, Parrish.”

“Ro,” Adam drew up to his knees, leaning over the back of the couch. Ronan glanced over at him. “I already ate. I’m not hungry.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “I haven’t eaten dinner yet. Not everything I do is just for you.” He turned on the stove, his attention shifting to focus on cooking rather than placating his boyfriend.

Adam turned around, inexplicably annoyed. He watched _House Hunters_ with his arms crossed and brows furrowed. Ronan was humming something under his breath as he cooked, the sound mostly muffled by the TV and his clanking around the kitchen. A quiet voice at the back of Adam’s head wanted him to relax, to enjoy the comfort of domesticity, but he was still silently fuming when Ronan settled on the couch next to Adam a few minutes later, plate in hand. Adam glanced at him sidelong, but he didn’t turn.

“You wanna bite?” Ronan said, mouth full. He hadn’t waited to stuff his face apparently.

“No.” Adam pretended that the insurance commercial playing on the TV was interesting enough to hold his full attention. “I’m full.”

Ronan swore under his breath, placing the plate on the table. “Hey, Parrish. Look at me.”

Adam sighed, turning his head to look at Ronan. “What?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Adam turned back to the TV.

“Okay, that’s obviously bullshit.” Adam rolled his eyes. “Can you tell me what I did so I know not to do it again?”

Adam winced and after a moment he stood, storming into the kitchen. Ronan’s gaze followed him across the room as he loitered in front of the open fridge. At last, Adam pulled out a carton of orange juice and poured himself a tall glass. “I’m fine, Lynch.”

When Adam turned back towards the living room Ronan was watching him, expression soft. “What’s wrong?”

Adam drained the rest of his juice and left the glass on the counter. He came back to the living room, perching on the arm of the couch, trying to maintain some literal breathing room between them. “I don’t know,” he confessed at last. “I really don’t know.” He looked at Ronan’s abandoned (and, annoyingly, delicious looking) quesadilla as he spoke, not ready to look him in the eye quite yet.

“Was it something I said?”

“Probably.”

Ronan chuckled lowly. “Will you come here?” Adam reluctantly shuffled closer, leaving just a few inches between them. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t even know what you did wrong.”

“You don’t know either.”

Adam huffed out a breath, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s stupid.”

Ronan poked at Adam’s knee. “It’s you. It can’t be stupid.”

“I just,” Adam leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. It felt easier to say when he didn’t have to look at Ronan. “I don’t like it when you spoil me. And I don’t like it when you point out that you like to spoil me. But for some fucking reason,” he paused, sucking in a breath. “I don’t like it when you don’t spoil me either.” Ronan didn’t speak, and Adam had to exercise all his self-control to keep himself from turning to look at him. “God, I’m so fucked up.”

Ronan shifted closer, his knee pressing into Adam’s thigh. “No you’re not.” Adam finally looked over at him, eyebrows drawn together. Ronan reached over and smoothed out the tension between his brows, Adam leaning into his calloused fingers. “I lied,” he said at last.

“You don’t lie.”

“I did.” Ronan took Adam’s hand, pressing a kiss to the pads of his fingers. “It’s all for you. Everything I do is for you.”

Adam leaned over to slide his lips against Ronan’s. “Don’t be a sap.”

Ronan’s laugh washed over him. He tugged on the collar of Adam’s shirt. “Too late.”

After a few beats Adam said, “can I still have a bite of your quesadilla?” Ronan snorted, his head tipping to rest on Adam’s shoulder. He was shaking with laughter, hands twisting in the soft material of Adam’s shirt. “Is that a yes?”

Ronan sat up. “Of course it’s a yes, Parrish.” He grabbed the plate from the table, “go for it.”

Adam lifted a piece to his mouth, taking a generous bite. “Sweet baby Jesus,” he said after he swallowed.

“Don’t take the Lor—” Ronan started. He couldn’t finish his admonishment when his mouth was occupied by Adam’s.

***

Ronan had somehow convinced Adam to go down to the Barns for Thanksgiving _and_ Christmas. Between the two holidays, Adam had spent more than half a day on the Amtrak because he refused to dip into his savings to buy plane tickets back and forth from Virginia.

(Ronan offered to pay, but he quickly shut his mouth at the look on Adam’s face)

Adam did enjoy being at the Barns, of course. Especially considering that this was truly their first holiday season together, and Adam was taking full advantage of it. Holding hands while they trampled through the fields to feed the cows. Cuddling up on the couch in front of a roaring fire with Aurora’s famous peppermint hot cholate in hand. Kissing under the mistletoe that Matthew put up around the house.

(Dragging Ronan around the old farmhouse to find every sprig of mistletoe Matthew had hidden and pointedly kissing him under it)

He also took advantage of being around Aurora Lynch as well. Over the six months that Adam and Ronan had been living together, it had been reiterated over and over again that Ronan’s cooking skills had been honed under his mother’s tutelage. If Adam wanted any such comparable talents in the kitchen, he had to go to the source.

Aurora had been grateful for Adam’s help at first, but she realized quickly that Adam was helpless in the kitchen. She gave him simple jobs, cutting vegetables and stirring pots of gravy. Despite his lack of talent, Ronan was quite pleased with Adam’s presence in the kitchen.

Adam tried to commit as much as he could to memory, but he couldn’t help but be frustrated by the process.

“Cooking is just about knowing the basics and trusting your instincts,” Adam grumbled under his breath as he got ready for bed.

“What was that Parrish?” Ronan asked, smiling like he knew exactly what Adam had said.

“You’re so full of shit, you know that?”

Ronan laughed brightly, coming around behind Adam, trapping him against the counter with his body. He smiled at Adam through the mirror, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re annoyed, you know that?” he mocked.

Adam’s hands circled Ronan’s wrists, leaning back against his boyfriend’s body. “l like being good at things. And I _don’t like_ being not good at things.”

Ronan was still smiling at him through the mirror. “You don’t have to be good at everything.”

“I’m not trying to be. But I want to be good at _this_ thing.”

“Do you want me to throw well-meaning, but possibly insincere, platitudes at you?”

Adam turned to look at the real Ronan, “no. But I do want you to use _platitudes_ in a sentence again.”

“Fucking nerd,” Ronan chuckled, leaning down to kiss Adam a little crookedly.

“You guys almost done in there?” Matthew asked from the doorway. 

Ronan pulled back. “Sorry, Matty.” He stepped back away from Adam. “Parrish?”

Adam was blushing furiously. He put his toothbrush in the cup on the counter and followed Ronan out of the bathroom.

“Goodnight!” Matthew called out into the hallway as he closed the door behind him.

Ronan led the way back to his bedroom, pulling Adam down on to his bed beside him. “You just need practice, is all.” He pushed Adam’s hair from his face, stroking one thumb over Adam’s cheek.

“You’ll help me?” Adam asked.

“Sure,” Ronan drawled, faux casual. Adam appreciated his fake flippancy, it made him feel a little less helpless.

Adam snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to Ronan’s bare shoulder. Somehow after a morning of gift giving and gorging himself on carbs, Adam was exhausted. “Merry Christmas, Ro.”

“Merry Christmas, Adam.”

***

They had to return to New York on January second, Adam had to back at work on Monday and he wanted to have a few days to settle back in before returning to real life.

(Or, well, that’s what he told Ronan when they were booking their Amtrak tickets)

On the morning of January third, Adam woke up while Ronan was still peacefully sleeping. He made sure to extract himself from their bed without waking Ronan, slipping out of their room and into the hall.

Adam had prepared for this early morning escapade last night when he had insisted on going grocery shopping alone while Ronan unpacked their things. His boyfriend had been suspicious, but Adam distracted him with the promise of returning with the takeout of Ronan’s choice for dinner.

While they were at the Barns, Adam had asked Aurora for her recipe for Belgian waffles. She had enthusiastically agreed, writing out, and then later explaining, the very detailed instructions. Adam had approached the recipe as he would a final exam: an intense, and perhaps, an unhealthy, amount of studying.

For the first time that he could remember, Adam’s studying had not resulted in a successful final product. In fact, his venture began failing right away. As it turned out, Adam didn’t actually know how to separate eggs. Things only got worse from there

Adam should have quit while he was mostly ahead. He could have started over and made something he knew he could do well. But he didn’t want to phone it in. He wanted to prove to Ronan that he wasn’t totally helpless in the kitchen.

He was not doing that, however.

It took burning the first waffle for Adam to give up.

The kitchen was a disaster zone. Batter and eggshells splattered over the counter; the sink piled high with dishes. Adam appraised the kitchen, checking the clock on the stove. Ronan would be awake soon, and if Adam wasn’t in their room, he would come looking for him.

In a moment that Adam could only describe as temporary insanity, he unplugged the waffle iron and quietly crept back into their room. Ronan was thankfully still asleep, sprawled out on his back, the pale skin of his chest on full display. Adam’s madness still fueled his movements; and rather than slipping back into his side of the bed, he crawled right on top of Ronan, settling himself in his boyfriend’s lap.

Ronan jerked awake, blinking up at Adam, confused. “Good fucking mourning to you too,” he croaked; voice thick with sleep.

“Happy anniversary,” Adam said, smiling brightly down at him. The expression felt a little forced, but Ronan was too tired to notice.

“Is it October again already?”

Adam rolled his eyes, leaning down to drop a quick kiss to Ronan’s temple. “No. But this was the day you actually realized that we were dating.”

Ronan huffed out and embarrassed breath, rubbing little circles into the space between Adam’s hipbones with his thumbs. “You know, for our _real_ anniversary,” Adam rolled his eyes, but Ronan continued on, “I woke you up with breakfast in bed. You seem to be waking me up with… Sex? Am I right to assume that this is you trying to get busy?”

“First of all, I woke up alone on our anniversary.” Ronan scoffed. “Second,” Adam felt himself blush. “I tried to make you breakfast.” He paused. “It did not go according to plan.”

“Oh ho ho,” Ronan said, trying to move Adm off his lap, but he remained steadfast. “Parrish. Let me up. I want to see what kind of damage you did to our kitchen.”

“No.” Adam kept Ronan’s body pinned with his thighs, leaning forward to stroke his hands up Ronan’s bare chest. His boyfriend followed the movements with his eyes. Adam quite liked using his hands (and Ronan’s Thing for his hands) as a distraction.

Ronan was able to shake out of his reverie after a moment. “You spend too much time with Blue. All that witchy voodoo shit is very unbecoming of you.”

Adam scoffed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“But I’m so _hungry_, Parrish,” Ronan intoned. For someone who didn’t lie, he sure was quite good at half-truths.

“No.” Adam said again. Ronan wriggled under him, and Adam pushed him back in to the pillows with both hands. “Look. I will do anything you want. I will let you do anything _to me_ that you want, if you _promise_ not to go out there.”

Ronan looked up at Adam quizzically, considering. “Anything?”

“_Anything_.”

With a great show of strength, Ronan flipped them over, pressing Adam into the mattress. “Alright. I have a few ideas.” He slid his mouth over Adam’s as the sun started to filter in their windows.

***

Later, Ronan had insisted on making breakfast (eggs and toast, because that was all that was left in their fridge after the Great Waffle Disaster) while Adam cleaned up the kitchen. Adam had been embarrassed by the mess, but Ronan’s soft smile and the _It’s the thought that counts, Parrish_ was worth all the trouble.

Of course, Ronan’s eggs and toast were spectacular; much better than either food had any reason to be. They ate on the couch, mostly naked, curled up under their duvet that Ronan had dragged off their bed and out into the living room.

Adam leaned over to Ronan, giving him a grateful, if not a little dirty, kiss. When he pulled away, Ronan was eyeing him suspiciously.

“What?” Adam took a bite of toast.

“Are you Pavloving me?”

Adam’s brow wrinkled. “Can you use that word as a verb?”

“Oh, that’s what got you?” Ronan laughed. “Not my very serious accusation?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Ronan?”

“Every time I cook you something, you reward me with kisses. And not chaste little pecks, but full on making out. Also the occasional blow job. Or hand job. Oh my god. You’re training me with _sex_.”

“I am _not_,” Adam tried to sound indignant, but a laugh was wheezing out of him.

“This is very serious, Parrish.” There was a smile at the corner of Ronan’s eyes as well. Adam was so sure that his goofy expression matched his own.

“It’s not my fault that you’re so talented that the only way I know to thank you is to show just how talented I am.”

Ronan’s laugh couldn’t be contained any longer. He leaned back against the couch, one and tracing invisible patterns on the side of Adam’s thigh with deft fingertips. “I’m sure there’s some kind of sexist joke in there, but I don’t want to make it and jeopardize you putting your talents to use again.”

“Good choice.” Adam leaned forward and kissed him square on the mouth. A long, searing kiss. “Hey, Ronan?”

“Yeah, Parrish?” Ronan said against Adam’s lips. They were just a hair’s breadth apart.

“I love you.”

Ronan warmed at that, his skin flushing pink under Adam’s hands. “I love you too.”

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Adam drawled. Ronan shut him up with his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written anything in this 'verse, and I've missed these boys. Technically this was written for an anonymous prompt I got a long ass time ago but I'm a piece of shit who only finished it now. Whoops. So sorry. 
> 
> Comments/Kudos are always greatly appreciated ♥︎
> 
> You can send me prompts (for this 'verse or anything really) [here](https://andtimestoodstill.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
